


Burdens

by Meril (allie)



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cold, Drabble Sequence, Drama, F/M, Gen, Rebellion, Tragedy, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-12
Updated: 2010-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-11 01:38:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allie/pseuds/Meril
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The exiles carry many things with them on their way to Arda.  Six drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burdens

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** It all belongs to Tolkien, I'm just writing around the edges. :)
> 
> Written November 2005.

**The World's Weight**

_I wonder what everyone else is carrying._

I carry objects both beloved and necessary: fresh clothes, a supply of food, and a few memorable trinkets. Some of my burdens are invisible: my mother's tears, my pride, anger, frustration…

In my dreams, I awake in my bed in Tirion, with Laurelin's light spilling through my window and plans to ride with my cousins in the afternoon… But then I feel jagged shards of ice beneath my aching body, my face parched by the brutal winds, and I know that this is now, this is reality.

Sometimes I feel like collapsing beneath the weight of my memories, my pack, my guilt (always, always the guilt).

In whispers we talk of the cold, our pains, and wishes for warmth and a good feast. Occasionally, someone will start humming a wordless tune, which is silenced by the howling wind.

We never speak of the things that haunt our dreams: the blood on our hands and our blades, on the sand… If I meet someone's gaze by chance, we both look down. We carry our burdens alone, in silence; we do not want to see our shames reflected_._

_I wonder what everyone else is carrying._

~*~

**A Necklace**

Élin carries a precious necklace: an opal set in smooth silver. _It was a gift from my mother, _she whispers. _Ammë gave it to me when I came of age, and I will give it to our daughter when she is grown. _Her eyes are sad as she glances up at her husband, twisting her hands nervously in the folds of her azure cloak.

He tries to meet her eyes, but his face tightens with shame and he cannot. Instead, he clings to her hand.

What she does not say (but they both know) is that her mother was Telerin.

~*~

**Coimas**

By the fifth week on the ice, the food begins to spoil. Elendur carries a small supply of _coimas_ from the palace kitchens, and some of the others begin to demand a share.

He denies them all. _I must take care of my own, _he snaps in response to bitter accusations of selfishness. They mutter rebelliously, but leave him alone.

What Elendur does not say is that his father and beautiful wife were killed by slender silver arrows on the pearly shores of Alqualondë, so he looks after his two children with special care; they are all he has left.

~*~

**A Book**

Írimë carries a thin book, no more than a hundred pages long.

She had lived in Formenos, scribing the writings of Fëanáro and his sons with wide-eyed fervor. Her days were filled with the task of learning all she could, and (from afar) shyly admiring the younger Ambarussa.

She dreams of teaching the history of their people to the young ones, and with the help of this slender volume, she will instruct them in reading and writing.__

_Tinco, parma, calma, quesse… _With her hands on the ship's railing, she looks towards the sky, breathing in the wild airs of Arda.

~*~

**A Sword and a Ring  
**

Arantur carries a sword that sits awkwardly at his hip, interfering with his loose, easy stride. It is a beautiful piece of weaponry: slender and fair, with a string of engraved runes saying simply _Arantur, son of Rilyatur_. He looks upon the runes often, polishing the curved strokes that spell out "son of Rilyatur" with special care.

His sister notices, but says nothing. Her left hand bears a thin silver ring, whose twin has been left behind on the hand of her love; no one ever hears her weep.

They promise each other: new lives in Arda, and no regrets.

~*~

**Faith, Memories, Vengeance**

Tasariel carried faith.

In Tirion, her heart was set afire by Fëanáro's impassioned words. _Yes! _she thought. _In Endórë, we can rule by our own rights, and not as thralls to the gods!_

At Alqualondë, her devotion remained unshaken. _For Lord Fëanáro! _she cried, even as her parents were cut down in the madness.

But at the Helcaraxë she is betrayed. _I believed in you, _she thinks numbly, seeing the horizon flush an unnatural crimson. _I trusted you…_

Now Tasariel carries memories of her mother's eyes, her father's safe embrace, and the faith that once blinded her to all else.

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


**Author's Note:**

> _Coimas_ is the Quenya word for lembas.
> 
> _Tinco, parma, calma, quesse_: the first letters of the Tengwar.


End file.
